


Half Remembered Dream

by antistia22



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode: s06e10 The Winds of Winter, Foreshadowing, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, R Plus L Equals J, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antistia22/pseuds/antistia22
Summary: Jon has a dream. Set prior to him going to meet Daenerys. Foreshadowing things to come.





	Half Remembered Dream

Men were dragging him through the halls of Winterfell by his arms. His limbs felt weak, unable to fight off his captors as they rushed him out the doors into the open courtyard. He felt a burning sensation at his feet. Looking down he suddenly realized he was walking barefoot in the snow and only had trousers on. His eyes widened in panic as he realized the gnarly scars were on display for all to see. The men shoved him onto his knees. The crowds in the courtyard halted, heads turning, every eye fixed on him. This feeling of being exposed tore at him, secrets hiding underneath stripped bare, uncovered. A fire kindled and churned in his gut as everything was still in that moment.

He saw no familiar face among the crowd. No one to rescue him. All were frozen, unmoving. His mind played tricks on him, making all the eyes staring back at him seem blue. Mortification and hopelessness flooded his thoughts, he lowered his head. The minutes seemed like hours.

Then a young woman emerged from nowhere, walking slowly, her path directly leading towards him. Her face was muddled, no features were distinct enough for him to focus on, except for her long silver-white hair. He had never seen anyone with its likeness. She came to a stop in front of him. Kneeling in the snow, she paused to look in his face even though he could not see hers. Gently she spread her hand on the scar above his heart. Every inch of skin under her touch felt warm and the fire in his gut roared to life, melting everything else away.

The moment her hand met his skin, she vanished. His surroundings changed instantly. He was suddenly standing on a hill overlooking a vast city, a city like none he had ever seen in his life. It stretched on and on to the bay, and a great keep with many high towers sat at the eastern most edge, red stones glinted in the warm sunlight.

He looked down at himself and thankfully found he was fully clothed. But instead of his typical colors, his Stark tunic and leather armor were solid black, Longclaw firmly at his waist. He looked up again and was admiring the city, could smell the salt of the sea even from where he stood.

Footsteps in the grass behind him drew his attention. He turned to see an older, slightly taller man walk up beside him. It was like looking in a mirror. The man’s features were sharper than his own but he could swear the man looked like himself. Most striking was this man had the same silver-white hair as the young woman who had vanished moments before. Thick silver locks fell to the man's shoulders, a braid woven in to hold it away from his face. He took in calming breaths as the man stood a few moments, smiling sadly at the great keep and the city surrounding it.

“It was meant to be yours.”

His brow furrowed, “What was?”

“This. All of it.” He swept his arm in front of them as they both gazed out from atop the hill. After a few moments the man spoke again. “I was wrong about so much in my life. So many people left behind to deal with the cruel consequences of my choices, and the choices of those around me.” The man turned to face him, eyes smiling. “You have done so well, my son. You are everything we hoped for, your mother and I. You’ll be a wonderful King, as you were always meant to be.”

He only stared at the man, his jaw slacking. His heart and mind raced at the man’s words, yet he could not comprehend them.

“She’s on her way now.”

“Who?”

“My sister.” The man laid a solid hand on his shoulder, the warmth spreading through the skin beneath once again. The man looked him in the eye. “Go to her. A Targaryen alone in the world... is a terrible thing.” The man gave him a knowing smile as he too vanished before his eyes.

 

Jon bolted up as the dream dissipated. He took in his surroundings as his heart raced in his chest, his breathing erratic. Ghost's red eyes found his from the direwolf's spot near the hearth, bright in the dim light of the early morning hour. Jon tried hanging on to the details in his mind as the dream swirled together, fragments of faces fading away. He covered his face in his hands and held them there as a headache began to form. Sweat covered his body, sticking his undershirt to his chest. When his heart and breathing calmed down, he rose to the wash stand and splashed water on his face. The only remnants left were of silver-white hair and warmth spreading on portions of his skin, inside of him. He was sure it hadn’t been a complete nightmare, but whatever had happened while asleep had affected him deeply. Jon shook the thoughts away. His first council meeting after the battle to retake Winterfell was today. Jon had enough to worry about as it was, let alone cryptic dreams he couldn't even recall moments after waking from them. He dressed and went to the Weirwood to be alone and brood over what he could not remember.


End file.
